A Past Come Back to Haunt
by EmmyR
Summary: When the team is called to investigate a murder at Quantico, they may learn something about Ziva's past that should have stay buried.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or its characters**

Tony walked into the squad room on Monday with a smile. He'd had a good weekend and couldn't wait to brag about it to his team. But McGee wasn't anywhere to be seen, and Ziva was on the phone. He sighed dramatically and sat down. Then Gibbs walked in.

"Got a dead body at Quantico. Grab your gear," he barked, taking a swig of coffee. "Where's McGee?"

"On your six, boss," McGee said, walking up, looking green. "Had Thai last night, must've been bad."

Gibbs looked concerned for a moment. "You okay to come?"

He just nodded. The worst of the nausea had passed. Gibbs nodded back and the four left for the scene. As soon as they saw the body, though, they all froze in their tracks.

It was a young woman, almost identical to Ziva. For a moment, no one spoke, all heads turned to Ziva, who had paled. Then Gibbs walked in front of her, blocking the body from view. "You know her?" he asked quietly.

Ziva nodded mutely. She couldn't even think, she was frozen.

"What's her name, Ziva?" Gibbs asked, still quiet.

"Ruth," she whispered. Then she cleared her throat and spoke louder. "Ruth Cohen. She is…was…former Mossad."

Gibbs nodded, then looked at the other two agents, who were looking at Ziva, concerned. "You two, get to work, we'll be right there." He gently guided Ziva away from the body and they sat on a bench.

"What can you tell me about her?" he asked gently, pulling out his notebook.

Ziva rubbed a hand over her face, and was shocked to find a stray tear. "I have not seen her in years. I did not even know that she was living in America. She was such a happy person. I cannot think of who would do this, Gibbs. She was so sweet to everyone!"

"You said she was former Mossad?"

"Yes. She and I were in the Metsada program together. But, we had a op go bad, were forced to kill innocents. She never forgave herself, and I never saw her after that. I assume that was when she moved here. When I asked, my father had simply told me that she retired." She covered her mouth with her shaking hand.

"You need a minute?" he asked. When she shook her head, the two of them went back to the scene and worked quicker than they had in a while, as the team could all tell that Ziva was shaken.

Finally, they finished on scene and went back to NCIS. Ziva asked if she could go down to Autopsy, and Gibbs agreed. When she got there, Ducky and Palmer hadn't started the autopsy yet.

"Would you like a moment alone, dear?" Ducky asked.

Ziva shook her head. "I just had to see her again. And I wanted to ask…" her throat closed with misery. She coughed through it. "She was a very devout Jew and I…"

"I will contact my rabbi friend. I am sure that we can still observe some traditions," he said, placing a comforting hand on her arm.

She simply nodded in thanks, speaking would make her break down, and left to go back upstairs. Walking into the squad room, she heard Tony speaking.

"…has no family in America, it seems that they are all still in Israel. Gained American citizenship four years ago. She's worked the last five years at a flower shop here in D.C. Records show that she was making a delivery to someone at Quantico"

"Go talk to her boss, DiNozzo; McGee, find out who ordered the flowers and check her phone records, bank statements, the works," Gibbs said. Ziva walked in and grabbed her bag as well.

"I am going with you," she stated. Tony looked at Gibbs, who nodded. The two left the building, both so lost in their thoughts that neither noticed the car that was following them.

**A/N: So, I decided to go a different angle with this one, delve a bit more into Ziva's past with Mossad. Let me know if you think I completely missed the mark or if I'm relatively close. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Still don't own it**

When Tony and Ziva were finished with the interview, he knew something was wrong when she didn't object to him driving. But he gave her space; after all, he knew what it was like to loose a teammate. They walked back into NCIS.

"What do you got?" Gibbs asked.

"Boss said that she was very polite, no enemies. Spent most of her time at work or with her coworkers. Didn't know if she had any friends out of the office, and apparently no boyfriend. Works five days a week, volunteers at a local synagogue once a week teaching English as a second language to Jewish immigrants. So far, no motive that we can find."

"Every murder has a motive, DiNozzo," Gibbs snapped. "McGee, you find anything?"

"Uh, yeah. Flowers were to be delivered to an address that doesn't exist. She probably got out to ask for directions, which is where the killer got her. Flower shop said that the person called in, didn't leave a name, and said he would pay with cash. I tried to trace the call, but nothing."

"Anything in her phone or bank records to raise a red flag?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, I looked through the last few months, to look for irregularities. Two days before she died she received several from a prepaid phone, calls lasted about 20 minutes each, until the last two, which she ignored."

Just then Gibbs's phone rang. "Yeah, Gibbs. Alright, Duck, be right down." He hung up. "Ziva, you're with me, you two, keep digging."

Ziva followed him to autopsy, where Palmer had just finished stitching the body. She bit her lip to help her keep her composure.

"What can you tell me, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, Jethro, what we have here is one large question. The official time of death would be yesterday evening, around 7. The official cause of death would be this gunshot wound to the head."

"So what's the confusing part?" Ziva asked.

"The confusing part would be the sheer number of injuries. I mean, it appears that this confrontation started with this stab wound here," he pointed to the knife mark on her stomach. "Now, that should have severely incapacitated her, however, it seems she put up quite a struggle, resulting in a hand-to-hand fight, judging by the split knuckles, two broken ribs, and numerous bruising. The something knocked her on the head, likely causing unconsciousness, or at least incapacitating her, and then she was shot and killed. I am simply amazed at how long she was able to cling to life, she should not have been able to."

Ziva took a deep breath as her friend's murder was described so detailed. "You probably saw that this was not the first time Ruth had been stabbed in the stomach, Ducky. It had happened a few times, and she learned how bad the pain was and how to work through it. She had the best pain tolerance of anyone I had ever met."

The men nodded. "Anything else, Duck?"

"Not right now, I will call you if I find anything else."

The two agents nodded and left. Ziva was only a little surprised when, as soon as they were in the elevator, Gibbs flipped the emergency stop. She calmly turned to look at him.

"I know you said that you have no idea who would have done this…"

"And I do no," she interrupted. "If I had an idea I would have been sure to tell you first thing."

"You said that you had an op go bad?"

"Yes, we were found by a couple immediately after an assassination. It was only our second time the three of us worked as a team, and we knew the consequences of leaving witnesses."

"Wait, you said a third member of your team?" Gibbs asked. "Why the hell didn't you tell us this sooner?"

She stared at him. "Because we do not know if that op, several years old, has anything to do with her murder. As it stands, she resigned the same time Ruth did."

"Why would they both resign at the same time, but not you."

Ziva looked uncomfortable, but wilted under Gibbs's glare. "They did not kill the couple. I did. They had not realized what being a part of Mossad truly meant until that time, and it was all I had ever known. So, they left, to find more appealing jobs."

"What was your other teammates name?" Gibbs demanded.

"Rebekah Tatz," she responded, and jumped slightly when he slammed the switch back on. The two of them strode quickly into the bullpen, and Gibbs looked at McGee.

"McGee, find something on Rebekah Tatz," Gibbs ordered.

"On it, boss," Tim said quickly, his fingers running over the keys. "Alright, I have something here. She's an American citizen, lived in D.C. until…"

"Until what, McGee?" Gibbs barked.

He hit a few keys, and a morgue photo appeared. "She was shot and killed two weeks ago, boss," he said nervously, glancing between Gibbs and Ziva.

Gibbs turned to her, where she was staring, shell shocked at the photo on the plasma. "Still think they're not connected, David?"

**A/N:Sorry for the long wait, hopefully it was worth it!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

**AN: I am so sorry for taking so long to post. If you are still reading this story, enjoy! Real life sucks sometimes, but what can you do? Hopefully, I'll be able to upload chapters quicker now that summer school is almost over. **

_"McGee, find something on Rebekah Tatz," Gibbs ordered._

_"On it, boss," Tim said quickly, his fingers running over the keys. "Alright, I have something here. She's an American citizen, lived in D.C. until…"_

_"Until what, McGee?" Gibbs barked._

_He hit a few keys, and a morgue photo appeared. "She was shot and killed two weeks ago, boss," he said nervously, glancing between Gibbs and Ziva._

_Gibbs turned to her, where she was staring, shell shocked at the photo on the plasma. "Still think they're not connected, David?"_

Ziva didn't answer, just continued staring at the photo on the screen. She backed away, stumbling slightly. Tony jumped to his feet, and steadied her, while McGee ran to get a glass of water. Gibbs put on his game face, and went to the stairs, headed for the director's office.

"He in?" Gibbs asked the secretary, who nodded, so he walked in.

Vance looked up in surprise. "Gibbs, what can I do for you this afternoon?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.

"I need a file from Director David," the agent said simply.

Vance straightened, not expecting that. "And that would be because…?"

"It seems our current case may have something to do with a previous case our victim was involved in when she was in Mossad."

Vance stood. "Your current case just happens to involve a former Mossad officer?" he demanded.

"Former teammate of Ziva's, to be more exact. There was a third member of the team, who was killed two weeks ago."

The director sighed, not liking the direction this was headed. "You think Ziva could be next?" he asked.

"Seems that way. It can't be a coincidence that both of her teammates were killed this month, one of them in Navy jurisdiction. I need the case files that the three were involved in from Director David, primarily the last case the three worked on together."

Leon hit a button on the phone.

"Yes, Director?" the secretary asked.

"I need an MTAC feed with Director David immediately," he ordered.

"Right away, sir," she responded, and the line clicked closed.

"You'll have that file as soon as I can get it," he said to Gibbs, who nodded, and left.

Back in the squad room, Ziva was sitting at her desk, taking a sip of water. "You okay there, Ziva?" McGee asked gently.

She nodded quickly. "I am sorry, I should not have…."

"No worries," Tony said quickly. About to say something more, Ziva's work phone rang.

"David," she answered.

"Are you getting nervous?" an electronically altered voice asked. Ziva looked up in surprise, and saw Gibbs coming down the stairs. Taking a moment to think, she looked at McGee, signaling him to trace the call, put the phone on speaker, and waved Gibbs over.

"Who is this?" she demanded.

"I would think you'd remember me, even after all these years. I was just wondering how you were handling the fear. I mean, two dead teammates, when its all your fault, tsk tsk tsk," the caller clicked his tongue, as if scolding a small child.

"What do you want?" she asked, fighting to stay calm.

"If you don't know the answer to that, my dear, I'm afraid you haven't learned your lesson yet."

The line ended, and everyone looked to McGee, who was apologetic. "Not enough time to trace it, boss," he said.

Gibbs nodded, then looked at the time. It was already after 7. What he had said to Leon was true, he was a bit worried about Ziva, and that phone call did nothing to reassure him. It simply confirmed it. But until they got the file from Mossad, there wasn't much to investigate.

"Alright, Ziva you're staying with DiNozzo tonight. No arguments," he said, overriding her objections.

With an indignant look, she turned and started getting her things, and the other two followed suit. As soon as they got to the elevators, Tony turned to her.

"We're going out for drinks," he stated

Ziva was about to object again, her imagined evening going up in smoke, but then decided that a drink or two would be just the thing, and nodded. "Okay, let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

**Holy shit, it's been over a year?! *cringes* I don't suppose an apology quite cover it, does it? Well, does a chapter that nearly doubles the word count? I sure hope so, because I feel so bad for neglecting this story. No Such Thing As Coincidences made me have tunnel vision for a while. I'll try to update both regularly. I'll make sure that there's less time between updates, at least :-D**

**Disclaimer: No one in their right mind would give me the characters.**

* * *

Ziva expertly threw back the shot of whisky, enjoying the feel as it slid down her throat. Of course, it was her fourth shot in less than an hour, so she wasn't really feeling the burn anymore.

Tony looked at her in concern. "Maybe you should slow down there a bit, David."

She grinned, but it was a bit lopsided. "Oh, please do not tell me that you think I am some kind of…what do you call them? Nuns?"

Tony chocked on the beer he was drinking at the idea of Ziva in a full nun's habit. The mental image was a bit easier with his third beer, but it was still disturbing. "Not at all, my ninja," he assured her. "You're just going at it a bit hard."

She grinned, and tried to signal the bartender for another, but he grabbed her arm and lowered it. "What?" she demanded. "Too worried about your partner having another drink?"

"No," he retorted. "I just don't want to have to carry her passed out butt back to my place."

She giggled, and he stared at her. After the past few years of working together, he could count on one hand the number of times he had heard that sound escape from her lips.

"Alright, I will slow down a bit," she told him, and leaned back into her seat, which thankfully had a back on it, or she would have ended up on her butt.

"So tell me," Tony started, "who do you think the phone call was from?"

She froze, and forced herself to relax. She knew that Tony wasn't a plant to get information out of her, but she had learned early on that having a loose tongue could end up killing her. "I do not know who it was," she said honestly.

Tony could tell that was all he was going to get out of her, even with the amount she'd had to drink, and backed it up quickly. It wouldn't do to have her mad at him, and he signaled the bartender, a wonderful guy named Ron, to bring them some water.

They drank it in silence for a while, until Ziva spoke up, her voice subdued. "Have you ever had a case that you regret? Not just the flinch of regret…"

"Twinge," he interrupted out of habit.

She didn't even acknowledge the correction. "Not just that, but the one that you have nightmares about years later?

Tony considered where she was going with that, but decided to be honest. "Truthfully? Not really. I mean, I've had cases that I regret for a few months, but nothing of the kind that I still think about all the time."

She smiled sadly. "You are lucky. Working in Komemiute, you get used to the nightmares. The faces that always haunt you, no matter how much you try and come to terms with what you have done."

Tony shivered, not just because of her words, but because of her voice as she said it. It was the first time that he had really given thought to how Ziva's lifestyle might have affected her. "I guess I am lucky," he said, since there really wasn't anything else he could say.

She smiled at him, and finished her drink. "I think we should get back to your place," she said, standing up. "We need to get to the office early."

He just nodded and threw the money onto the table, motioning to Ron that they were leaving. Receiving a nod and a wave, they walked out of the bar and made their way to his car. Tony was about to say something when Ziva screamed at him to duck. It didn't come in time, as he fell forward, stars flashing in front of his eyes as he was hit from behind and went down like a brick.

Ziva saw the two that were closing in on her and mentally kicked herself. There was a reason that her father insisted that none of the agents drank liquor, even when off duty. It slowed reflexes, on the rather high chance that you were ever attacked.

She pulled out her SIG and quickly aimed it at the one nearest. "NCIS, hands in the air," she called, though she knew it was useless, that they wouldn't listen to her.

Sure enough, the one closest to her smirked, and the other one still had his gun aimed at the unconscious body of her teammate. "Drop your gun, and he'll drop his," he sneered.

Ziva thought through her options lightning fast, cursing again the alcohol that was clouding her mind. She knew one thing for sure: she wasn't going to be responsible for yet another death while she could help it. Keeping a close eye on both of them, she began lowering her gun. "Yours, too," she reminded him, and they both lowered their weapons until they all heard the metal meeting asphalt.

She hadn't counted on the other one quickly drawing his gun and shooting at her. She rolled quickly, letting out a short grunt when she felt fire along her hip, but she ignored it.

Suddenly, it was as though the past several years had not happened. She was one of the most feared assassins in Mossad, and she had only one mission: neutralize the threat and protect the incapacitated teammate.

She pulled out her backup from her ankle and shot one in the gut, dropping him in seconds. Then the gun was shot out of her hands with amazing aim: it hadn't hit her hand, just the barrel of the gun. It still hurt like hell, but she barely felt it. She pulled her knife from the small of her back, watching as he did the same. They circled each other, neither caring about the crowd that was coming out of the bar, nor the number of people running away and screaming. They only cared about their respective missions.

Finally tired of the game, the man closed the distance, slashing his way to her. She hurried to block his arms when she could, taking a few hits when she couldn't. The fire on her side was certainly slowing her, but she continued to hold her own for a while. Neither were expecting it when he suddenly dropped, Ron standing behind him with a baseball bat.

Ziva panted, forcing herself to relax a bit so that she didn't attack the bartender. She stared at him, waiting to see if he was going to try and take her on as well. When he just looked at her, she started walking backwards to Tony, then dropped to one knee as the burn in her hip intensified, as well as the random gashes that the knife had given her.

"Zee?" Tony mumbled, hearing her mutter a curse in Hebrew.

Ron went over to his buddy and gripped his shoulder. "DiNozzo, you alive, man?" he asked firmly.

Tony sat up a bit, rubbing the nape of his neck where he could feel a bump forming. "Yeah, I'm fi – "

Ziva cursed again at her thoughtlessness and pulled out her cuffs, wrapping them around the one closest, who was the one gutshot. "Tony, give me your cuffs!" she called, making her way painfully over to the other that was only knocked out.

Tony still didn't know what the hell was going on, but tossed his bracelets to Ziva, watching her slap them onto the other man. He then watched her go for her cell, only to see that it was covered with her blood, as it was on her hip.

"Ziva!" he yelled, hurrying over to her. He got to her just in time as she started swaying and eventually collapsed into his arms. He gently laid her down and looked at Ron. "What the hell is going on?" he nearly yelped.

Ron was still breathing hard. "Not a clue, dude. I was hoping you could tell me. I hear gunshots and run out here, only to find your lady friend in a knife fight. I grab my bat and hit him. You know what's happened since."

Tony cursed. Clearly these men were involved in their case somehow. "Did you call for an ambulance?" he demanded.

Ron shook his head and pulled out his cell. "I will now," he said and walked a bit away.

Tony pulled out his cell as he hurried to his car for some towels to stem the bloodflow on Ziva and the other one that was shot. He pressed the speed dial as he pulled up Ziva's shirt a bit to look at the wound and winced. It was between a graze and a full GSW, tearing a good hole in her side. He pressed the towel as hard as he dared and looked around.

Thankfully, the bar was frequented by other cops, and he saw one he recognized. "Tom, get over here," he called.

Tom Bradshaw had been with DCPD for nearly twenty years and had already called the on duty cops to tell them what was going on. "What do you need?"

Tony just threw him a towel and gestered to the bleeding attacker when Gibbs answered. "Boss, Tony," he said shortly. "Me and Ziva were attacked at the bar, need back up."

Gibbs threw on his shirt and grabbed his gun. "What the hell?" he demanded, grabbing his keys and running out the door.

"Your guess is as good as mine, but Ziva's hurt bad, we've got ambulances on the way. Just get here," he ordered, and hung up. Normally, he would get a headslap at the least for talking to his boss like that, but right now, he was too busy to give a damn. "Come on, Ziva," he muttered. "You stay with me, damnit."

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***peeks out* I'm horrible, aren't I? You wait for over a year, and this is what you come back to? Please come back again when I update, which I promise will be within a week. Feel free to hunt me down if it isn't up by then!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Man, I was not expecting as many views on this as I'd gotten. Thank you! I hope that you all continue to enjoy the story!**

**Disclaimer: still not mine!**

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When Gibbs screeched to a halt in front of the bar, which was surrounded by cop cars and three ambulances, McGee only a step behind him, he ran up to one of them, only to find it closing its doors and taking off. He ran to the other, to find a man dressed in all black being treated for a wound to his stomach. He growled and went to the last, finding a paramedic arguing with his Senior Agent.

"Are you finished yet?" Tony demanded the paramedic who was putting butterfly bandages on a gash behind his ear where there was a gash.

"Nearly," he said drily. "There, all done. I'll check out the last one, see if he needs to go to the hospital.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs barked.

Tony looked up and cringed inwardly. "Boss, Probie," he merely said, hopping off the bumper of the ambulance with a wince.

"DiNozzo, report," Gibbs demanded, eyes sweeping the scene. He saw DCPD marking two shells and two bloodstains, one was the perp, and the other, he assumed, belonged to his most recent agent.

"I'm not sure myself," he confessed. "We had a few drinks and were heading out to the car. Ziva yelled, and it was lights out for me. I came to when Ron," he gestured to the bartender, "came over to wake me up, and Ziva was cuffing one attacker, and demanded mine to cuff the other. Ron called DCPD and the amblunces and Detective Bradshaw kept the one of the bastards from bleeding out before the cabs could get here. That's all I know, but Ron is giving his statement."

"McGee," Gibbs said.

"On it, boss," Tim said, hurrying over to Ron to get his full statement.

Gibbs made his way over to the OIC from DCPD. "We've got it from here," he said shortly.

The officer looked at him. "Gladly," he said. "This looks like a bit more than just a bar fight to me."

"You assume correctly," Gibbs told him, and the officer went to tell his men to give their reports to NCIS and to clear out. Gibbs was on his phone the next minute to call for a team from their agency, and another to Vance to find out how close he was on getting that file from Director David. He left a message for his own director, and heard slight movement behind him.

Knowing that it was Tony, he didn't bother turning around. "How was she, DiNozzo?" he asked quietly.

Tony hesitated, and Gibbs turned to look at him. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "She had a couple knife wounds on her, and a pretty good tear in her side. She had a couple fingers look like they were broken, but I was more concerned with her possibly bleeding out."

Gibbs sighed silently. "Get over to the hospital, call me with her status when you hear something," he ordered. "I'll call you with a sitrep when we have one." He knew that his Senior Agent was drowning in guilt for not being there for his partner, never mind he had been unconscious at the time. He would do no good at the scene, so it was best to send him off with something a bit useful.

"Got it, boss," Tony said. He knew that his boss had thrown him a bone, but he was going to take it without comment. He pulled out his keys and made a beeline for his car.

Gibbs watched him pull out carefully and drive off, and he made his way over to the ambulances. The suspect who had been hit over the head was conscious, but was just glaring at everyone. Gibbs waved down an officer and had him taken to the Navy Yard. He went over to the other one and looked at the medic.

"Well?"

"DOA," the paramedic said. She shrugged. "We still have to take him to the hospital and let them pronounce him, but he's gone. Bled out."

Gibbs nodded to her, and had another officer follow them so he could oversea the transfer of the body to the Navy Yard as well; he would be on Ducky's table soon enough. He looked around and saw McGee walking towards him. "What do you have?"

McGee looked at his notes. "The bartender, Ron Mitchell, said that Tony and Ziva came in a few hours ago, had a few drinks, then left. About…ten minutes after they walked out, everyone heard two gunshots. Everyone panicked and left, Ron and a few others came out to see what was going on. Ron brought the bat that he used once in a while to break up fights. He saw Ziva in a knife fight with one of the perps and hit him over the head. He went to wake up Tony while Ziva cuffed the suspects. He called 911 while Tony and Detective Bradshaw kept Ziva and the other perp from bleeding out," he finished, closing his notebook.

Gibbs just nodded, eyes sweeping the scene. "Wake up Abby, I want her to look over all the evidence we have. Then call Ducky, tell him he has a new guest in Autopsy."

McGee just nodded and pulled out his cell, walking away to make the calls.

* * *

Gibbs sucked down the last of his coffee as he made his way up to Vance's office. He had been at the bar all night, and was not in the best mood. It was 7:30, and he was sure he saw the director's car in the lot when he pulled in. Thankfully, the secretary wasn't in yet, so Gibbs just walked in; not that anyone had really stopped him before.

"Agent Gibbs, how are you doing this morning?" Vance asked without looking up from his computer.

"Well, just peachy, sir," Gibbs said with a touch of sarcasm. "I have one of my agents in the hospital, one perp in custody, the other in Autopsy."

"Yeah, I heard about that," Leon said, still flipping through his computer. "What have you found out so far?"

"Not much, still waiting on a few things to come through. What about that file?"

Vance finally leaned back in his chair and regarded the team leader. "Director David was a bit reluctant, but he promised to have it sent over later today."

"Why was he reluctant?" Gibbs asked. "I would think he would want this solved as much as we do."

Vance nodded thoughtfully. "I was wondering that myself. From what I gathered, this wasn't exactly a shining moment for Ziva's team, or Mossad for that matter. They were three rookies, all in their first few months in the field, without anyone experienced with them, which was against protocol. I won't know more until we get that file, or until Agent David tells us something."

"I'm waiting on DiNozzo to get back to me about how she's doing," Gibbs said. He stood, stretching his back a bit. "Let me know when you get that file."

"As long as you let me know when you get something on this. I mean it, Gibbs, keep me in the loop on this one."

Gibbs just nodded and walked out of the room, making his way to the cafeteria for a Caf-Pow, then made his way to the lab. "What do you got for me, Abs?" he called over the music.

"Ah, Gibbs, thank you so much," Abby said, reaching for the drink and taking a few gulps. She set it down and went to the computer. "I'm running our two guys' prints, but nothing's come up yet. The casings that were recovered from the scene were identified, one from perp number one's gun, perp number two's gun, and the last from Ziva's back up weapon. I also looked at that gun, and holy cow, Gibbs. This thing is never going to be fired again, I can tell you that much," she told him and showed him the gun. Sure enough, the barrel was dented beyond repair. It would be cheaper to get a new one.

"How'd that happen?"

"It was shot by perp number two's gun. My guess is that he was no more than eight to ten feet away when he shot it. That was an amazing shot, Gibbs. He could have shot Ziva's hand or her arm, but he didn't touch her: there's no blood on the gun itself."

"I'll be sure to complement him when I head to interrogation," he said drily. "Anything else?"

"Not yet," she started when the computers started beeping erratically. The prints were flagged. "Yikes, looks like our guys were taken out of the system, I can't get their names," she said, frustrated.

"Can you find out who flagged them?" Gibbs asked, walking around the computer to look at the plasma.

"I can try," she muttered, fingers flying over the keys. She growled when it finally came up. "They were taken out of the system and flagged by Mossad seven years ago."

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**Wow, over a year for the last update, then two days. Not bad! Please, feel free to let me know what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, so this was already written, which is why I can update. However, I'm updating from the hospital... the ICU waiting room, to be exact. The mother in law of a very close friend of mine is not expected to make it much longer, so I'm not sure if I'll be updating for the rest of the week. Don't worry, I'll get back to it, but with my time split between the hospital and work, I haven't had much time for writing. I'm sorry in advance!**

**Disclaimer: I keep checking my mailbox, but I haven't received the rights yet.**

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Gibbs hung up with Vance, telling him to get names for those prints, preferably before he went into interrogation. Instead, he made his way over to Autopsy.

"… actually survived for several hours before finally succumbing to…"

"Am I interrupting, Duck?" he asked, walking in.

"Not at all, Jethro, I was merely remembering an old case I had were someone was shot exactly like this, but remained alive for a while before he died. This fellow was not so fortunate."

"Yes, it's a real shame," Gibbs said. "What can you tell me about him?"

"He is young, mid to late twenties, of Middle Eastern dissent, not from the wealthiest of families."

"Where did you get that?" Gibbs asked him.

Ducky pulled back the lips and pointed to the teeth. "Very little dental work. He's had some, most likely when he was in his early teens, I would say, but nothing recent. I still haven't finished the entire autopsy, but I will let you know if I find something else."

"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs said, making his way out of the room and took the elevator back to the squad room. When he got there, he stopped in his tracks and stared. A moment later, he was striding forward, furious.

"Special Agent David," he barked. "What exactly are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, boss, I tried to stop her, but she…" Tony started, but Ziva interrupted him.

"I am here to find out who killed my teammates and who is trying to kill me before they try again," she snapped, putting a hand on her side with a grimace.

"You can barely stand, David. Get back to the hospital, or get to your apartment. I don't want to see you here for at least two more days. Do I make myself clear?" he ordered, voice loud and stern.

"Gibbs, I am fine. I will stay here until this case is solved," she told him, resolute.

Gibbs turned to Tony. "What did the doctors say?" he demanded.

"15 stitches on various gashes on her arms and torso, 9 staples to close the rather impressive bullet graze on her hip, and two broken fingers on her right hand," he recited. "She was given prescriptions for pain and infection, and has to go back into the hospital in 5 days to get the staples looked at."

Gibbs growled low in his throat and pulled Ziva's chair out, pushing her into it. "You are going to stay there," he said firmly. "You will do desk work and not move from that spot without telling me. If you start pushing it too hard, I will send you home. Understood?"

Ziva scowled at him, but nodded, turning towards her computer to get started. She knew that she was pushing it merely by coming into work, but there was no way she was going to stay at the hospital while all of this was going on. She refused; anything would be better than that.

The elevator chimed, and they all looked over, and Ziva felt her jaw drop before she was able to stop it. Officer Malachi Ben Gidon walked in, file held loosely in his hand. Gibbs threw down the pen he was writing with and stood.

"Can I help you?" he demanded.

Malachi looked at him, then over at Ziva, an expression of concern at seeing the cuts that were visible over her clothing, then looked back at Gibbs. "My Director sent me here to bring this file. For obvious reasons, he did not trust merely sending it."

Gibbs glared, but nodded. "Ziva, with me," he ordered, and they made their way upstairs. He might be stubborn as hell, but he knew that Vance needed to be in the room as well, or he faced a lot of serious trouble in the future. So he just nodded to the secretary, who simply rolled her eyes, and they walked in.

"Gibbs," Vance greeted, then stood as well when he saw the other two making their way inside. "Agent David, it is good to see you, I was worried. Officer Gidon, might I ask what you are you doing in my office?" he asked, a bit less than welcoming.

Malachi just nodded. "Director David sent me with the file that you requested. For obvious reasons, he wanted to be sure that it would not be viewed by anyone not read into this case."

Gibbs held out a chair for Ziva, and the men settled down as well. "Alright, go ahead," Vance said, waving a hand at the Mossad Officer.

So Malachi started, and Ziva wrung her hands in her lap. It was certainly not her best moment, and having every last detail read aloud for her Director and her team leader was not something that she would ever have wanted.

Malachi read about how the three had been on an assassination mission, and been seen by a young couple. Ziva had quickly shot them to keep from being ID'd. A short investigation was launched, but nothing was ever proven, obviously. Rebekah and Ruth left the program, and Ziva continued.

Vance looked at Ziva's pale face and leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table. "Tell me something: why were three rookies sent on this mission? I don't know how Mossad works, but shouldn't an experienced officer have been sent with them?"

Malachi shifted slightly, but fought to keep the neutral expression on his face. "Yes, well, you understand why Director David was not wanting this to get around. Very embarrassing for our agency, you see."

"Embarrassing?" Gibbs asked. "It seems like criminal negligence to me!"

"Believe what you wish, Agent Gibbs," Malachi said, getting annoyed. "Now you understand what the mission was, I would like to know why."

"Something else first," Gibbs said. "We tried running two sets of prints. They were the men who attacked Ziva just last night. One is dead, the other is in Interrogation. Both of their prints have been flagged and removed by Mossad. Why would that be?"

Malachi's eyes widened before he could help himself. He controlled his expression, but they had all seen it. "I do not know why that was done, but I shall ask, if you would like?"

Gibbs growled, but Vance glared at him. "We had the assault and attempted murder of two of our agents," he said, voice cold. "We would like, at the least their names, preferably more."

Malachi stood, buttoning his suit jacket. "I shall ask my Director," he said diplomatically. "Until then," he declared, and left the room.

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**Hope you are still enjoying the story! Like I said, I'll try to update this weekend, or early next week, promises!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry this is a bit shorter than the others. After a funeral and working nonstop, I just haven't really been able to write nearly as much. Still, I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: not mine**

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The team was in the squad room, and all of them were rather jittery. Gibbs didn't want to start the interrogation until they had more information on what was going on. Ziva was shifting in her seat, far too stubborn to admit that she was in serious amounts of pain. Tony and McGee were wanting to know what on earth was going on with everyone and the case.

Tony had offered to go get food, but no one responded. He left anyway, coming back with a few bags of food from the diner down the road, not that anyone ate much. They were all too anxious for news from the Mossad officer to eat.

After a few hours, Malachi came back into the room. "Very well, Agent Gibbs. Director David has given me the identities of the two men you have encountered the other day."

Gibbs looked at him for a moment, waiting for him to continue, but he said nothing more. "Okay," he prompted.

"In private, if you would not mind," Malachi said, as civilly as he could, looking around the room. He clearly was not wanting to talk out in the open, where anyone could overhear them. Something about the news he was going to deliver bothered him; everyone in the room could tell.

Gibbs threw down his pen again and nodded to Ziva to join them. They made their way back up to Vance's office and walked in. Their director greeted them, looking firmly at Malachi.

"Officer Gidon, I hope you have some information for us," he said, taking a seat at the head of the table.

Malachi just nodded. "I was given the names of the men whose prints you ran. The one who Agent David killed is named Shai Denker, who resigned two years after the women on Ziva's team. The man you have in interrogation is Yoni Cohen."

Ziva's heart stopped. "Cohen?" she demanded, standing up and ignoring the pain in her side. "Ruth's husband?!"

Malachi didn't look at her, but at his hands folded on the table. "Former husband, actually. Ruth divorced him the same time that she resigned from Mossad."

Gibbs and Vance exchanged a look, then looked at Ziva, who was staring at Malachi. "You are saying that Ruth's ex-husband was the one who killed her?" she whispered.

Malachi sighed and leaned back. "I cannot say for certain. I only know that he is the man you did not kill last night at the bar."

"Excuse me, Director," Ziva muttered to Vance, and hurried out of the room. She sprinted for the restroom, barely making it there in time to throw up. A combination of pain, pain medication, very little sleep after a horrific night, and then this revelation left her shaking as she slumped to the floor. She knew Yoni; she was actually the one who had introduced him to her good friend Ruth. Yoni and Malachi had joined at the same time, much as Ziva, Rebekah and Ruth had joined together, and she could only imagine how he was feeling about all of this. She could remember all of the times that they had gone on group dates: Ruth and Yoni, Rebekah and Shai (before they broke up a few weeks later), and Ziva and Issa, who was her beau at the time.

She didn't know much about Shai, only that he had been Yoni's best friend for years. Shai had been in Ruth and Yoni's ceremony, so she wasn't surprised that he would have helped out his friend now. It was something that she would have done for any of her friends.

Ziva climbed, shakily, to her feet and rinsed her mouth out, splashing her face with the cold water. She still had information to gather, and an interrogation to watch. She would do no one any good if she couldn't stop thinking about the past and focus on the present.

* * *

Vance and Gibbs had watched Ziva leave, knowing that she needed a few minutes to collect herself. "Alright, Officer, what else can you tell us?" Vance asked, putting a toothpick in his mouth and fiddling with it.

Malachi appeared confused for a moment. "I am sorry, Director Vance, but I do not know what you mean. I have provided your team with more than enough information, I believe."

"You told us the details of the past case, which Mossad stonewalled us on, and you told us the identities of the two men, which again, Mossad took out of the system," Vance said sternly.

"Maybe you should tell us something that is not handed to you, such as why you believe Yoni Cohen would kill his wife," Gibbs suggested, in a tone that made it clear he wouldn't take no for an answer.

Malachi sighed in frustration. "Yoni and Shai were close friends, had known each other for years. When Ruth left Mossad and divorced Yoni, he was furious. He did not understand he choice, and she refused to have anything to do with him anymore, or anyone from Mossad."

"And all that rage came to a head now. Why?" Gibbs demanded.

Malachi stood, and walked for the door. As he put his hand on it, he turned back. "For that, you will have to ask Yoni," he said quietly, and left quickly.

Ziva headed back for Vance's office, and was surprised to see Malachi getting onto the elevator. It closed before she had a chance to grab him and demand answers, so she returned to the office, catching Gibbs and Vance talking quietly to each other.

"Well?" she asked. "Are we going to interrogate Yoni?"

Gibbs stood, thinking quickly. "I will," he said, stressing the first word. "You will watch from the observation booth." When he saw her about to object, he stopped her. "If he refused to cooperate, you are free to join me. But for now, you will watch."

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**A/N: I'll try to update soon!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry (yet again). The godforsaken flu has been making its rounds throughout everyone in my family, and it seriously sucked. Not to mention my laptop hates me, though that really isn't news. Anyway, enough excuses. This story is finally coming together for me, so if my computer lets me, I should be able to post the next update fairly quickly (knock on wood)**

**Disclaimer: *checks mail* "bills, bills, bills, junk ..." Nope, still not mine!**

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Ziva gingerly sat in the chair that was kept in Observation, stretching her legs out in front of her. She wouldn't admit it to anyone but herself, but she was in serious pain. She should have taken her next dose of pain medication nearly two hours ago, but she would leave NCIS before missing this interrogation. This was beyond duty, this was personal, and she wanted answers.

She never thought that a case this old would be coming back to bite her in the butt, but it was. There was something that was seriously wrong, though. Why on earth would Yoni and Shai wait for so many years before coming and killing their former significant others? It didn't make sense to her. Granted, she wasn't great at psychology, but there had to have been a trigger of some sort. Maybe Gibbs would find the answers she was looking for.

Gibbs stalked into the room, and slapped the handful of files down on the desk, taking a seat, but maintaining eye contact the whole time. He opened the file, flipping through a few of the pages he had. "So, Yoni Cohen, ex-husband of now deceased Ruth Cohen."

Cohen leaned forward. "How did you get my name?" he demanded with a heavy accent.

Gibbs scoffed at him. "You think you're the only one with resources? You're buddy, the one that helped you attack Agent David is Shai Denker. He's in Autopsy right now."

Yoni gritted his teeth. "Ziva is a traitor to her country, leaving the most feared agency for a bunch of idiots," he spat, glaring at Gibbs. "Denker will be remembered for his attempt to finish her."

"Is that what this is about?" Gibbs asked, voice deceptively soft. "You blame her for the op that went bad?"

"They screwed up!" Yoni yelled, attempting to stand. The chains, though, brought him back down hard. "But instead of doing their jobs and being there to fix everything, they left! They left everything, as though it didn't matter."

"Agent David stayed," Gibbs reminded him. "She stayed for a few more years. How is she to be held responsible for the actions of former teammates?"

"It was her fault," Cohen growled. "She could have done something other than kill innocent bystanders, she had other options. But she killed them, like the cold blooded murderer that she is. If she had done something else, lives could have been saved."

"Which lives?" Gibbs asked. "Ruth and Rebekah, or the innocents that are long dead?"

Cohen spat on the floor, eyes full of hate. "All of them. She will keep killing, until her ledger is so covered in red, no one will be able to stop her."

Gibbs fought to control himself. He knew that yelling at this point would do nothing, but it took a lot of his self control to keep from slamming the Israeli's head into the desk. "So, what prompted you to come here? Why now, after all this time?"

"Issa saw David's resignation to Mossad," Cohen said reluctantly.

Ziva swayed, not realizing that she had stood, hands pressing against the glass. Issa was part of this? She felt the world spin around her, but strong hands grabbed her shoulders.

"Sit down, Zee," Tony murmured. He guided her back to the chair. When he heard that Gibbs was interrogating, he and McGee had booked it to Observation, arriving in time to keep their teammate from passing out and cracking her head on the floor.

Cohen was still talking. "… heard that she was continuing her work, but now as an American agent, we knew we had to do something."

"So why the other two?" Gibbs demanded.

Cohen forced himself to keep quiet. He had already said too much, he wouldn't give away any more information.

"Where can we find Issa?" Gibbs asked, voice like ice.

Cohen grinned, but it was malicious. "You can't find him. He'll find Ziva David, though, you can believe that."

Gibbs stood and stormed out of the room, entering Observation a moment later. If he was surprised to find his other two agents there, he didn't show it. "DiNozzo, take David home with you. No side trips this time. Straight there, and put the place in lock down once you get there."

Ziva stared at her boss. "So, I am going to be bait?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"No, I'm just making sure that when you pass out, it won't be here," Gibbs retorted. "You can try to fool yourself, but I can tell you have about half an hour before you collapse, and I don't want it to be in my squad room. Get some rest, be back here at 0800, we'll start looking for Issa in the morning."

Ziva looked like she wanted to object, but Tony silenced her by putting an arm on her shoulder and guiding her towards the door. When it was closed, McGee looked at their boss.

"We really going to leave her alone for the night?" he asked, somewhat incredulously.

Gibbs shook his head with a wry look on his face. "Of course not, McGee. Get some coffee, we're going to stake out DiNozzo's apartment until morning."

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**A/N: So, I'll be honest: I hate this chapter. Of course, I suck at writing Gibbs in interrogation, so it's not that surprising. But after rewriting this chapter so many times, I just had to post something to move the story along.**

** Virtual cookies, though, to anyone who can tell me what movie I had Cohen reference during his rant!**


	9. Chapter 9

**This chapter came to me rather quickly, and I hope that I managed to keep everyone in character, especially Ziva.  
**

**Disclaimer: Still not mine, though a girl can dream, right?**

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Three AM found Ziva fast asleep in Tony's apartment, thanks to the pain pills that he practically forced down her throat. The Senior Agent, however, was still wide awake, sitting on his couch with his gun in hand. There was no way he was going to let someone hurt his teammate on his watch. Not again.

The other two were sitting in Gibbs' car, also on edge. They both had the feeling that something was going down, and it was going to be going down soon. McGee was struggling to stay awake. Normally, he pulled stakeouts with Ziva or Tony, which was slightly easier, in his opinion. They were a lot easier to talk to, unlike Gibbs, who was a stone.

There had already been a few false alarms, when they would see someone sneaking around the apartment complex in dark colored clothing, and they would tense, only to see that it was a jogger, and certainly not anyone of Middle Eastern descent.

It was only when they had completely finished off their coffee, and McGee was getting a bit stiff from sitting in the same position for so long, that they spotted him. Gibbs was immediately on the phone.

"DiNozzo. Show time," he muttered, then quietly flipped the phone closed again. They silently got out of the car, just in time to see their guy draw a gun and kick in Tony's door.

"NCIS, drop your gun!" Gibbs and McGee yelled. They both took a defensive position by the door, but kept their guns pointed inside the apartment.

Issa and Tony were staring at each other, both standing in identical positions with their guns held steady. "Give me a damn reason," Tony breathed. He knew that Ziva was most likely awake at that point, but he just wanted to end this, once and for all.

"Or what? You shoot me?" Issa asked.

They all jumped slightly when they heard a floor board creak, and the team nearly had a heart attack when they saw Ziva walking forward, hands up, holster empty. "Put the gun down, Issa," she ordered. "Believe me when I say that they will not hesitate to kill you. I know you do not want that."

"You do not know what I want," Issa spat. His gun was still pointed at Tony, but he was facing Ziva.

"Then tell me, what is it that you want?" Ziva demanded. "I do not understand why you are doing this, unless you have a death desire."

"I want you to hurt as much as we hurt!" Issa screamed. "When you and Ruth and Rebekah came back from that op, you all were different, and then they left. You were never the same after that, even the Director noticed! It was your fault, you ruined ALL our lives by your actions!" His arm twitched slightly, as though to point the gun at her, but he saw Tony stiffen, and kept the gun where it was at.

"I screwed up," Ziva admitted impassively. "You think you are telling me something that I do not already know? I have carried around the guilt of killing the two innocents since the second I pulled the trigger. So, was that your goal? To tell me that I messed up?" She studied his face for a moment before nodding. "Denker and Cohen blame me for Ruth and Rebekah leaving, don't they?"

"If you had not killed them, your teammates would not have left Mossad, and their loves," Issa said. "Maybe you wouldn't have left me!" He swung his arm around to point the gun at Ziva, and three shots rang out before he could move it more than a few inches.

Issa fell to the ground with a loud thump, the gun clattering to the ground, where Gibbs hurried to grab it. Ziva slowly walked over to him. Blood was pooling from his side, his gut, and his shoulder. She squatted down, well out of his reach, and spoke quietly.

"Director wanted to send you with us," she told him, eyes flaming in hate. "You always spoke of how you knew I would do well in that program, and I wanted to prove you right. Without you looking over my back." She clenched her jaw, lost in memories from years prior. "When we got back, I could see how you felt. It was clear in the way you acted. You hated me for messing up that op, but not nearly as much as I hated myself."

Issa stared at her, blood running down from his mouth. He closed it and swallowed, nodded at her, and closed his eyes. Within a minute, he was gone.

Ziva stood, not noticing the blood that was caking the shoes she had slipped on. She didn't look at any of them, but shouldered past Gibbs and McGee and walked out of the room.

Tony started to walk after her, but Gibbs stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Boss?" he asked, wanting to hurry up and catch his partner.

"She needs time," Gibbs said simply, and pulled out his cell to call for the coroner. He, too, wished he could talk to the Israeli, but knew better than anyone that some battles needed to be fought alone. As soon as he was finished on the phone with the coroner, who was on the way, he called the director.

"Vance," Leon answered.

"Case is finished," Gibbs said.

The director got up, hoping that the call wouldn't wake up his wife. "What happened, Gibbs?" he asked, knowing that it likely had gotten messy.

Gibbs took the next few minutes to explain what happened, and that they would all have their reports in the next day. Technically, Cohen was still a Mossad Officer, so they would let Director David know about everything in the morning, and let him decide what to do with the last surviving member of the group.

"How's OUR David doing?" he asked.

"She's hanging in there. We'll see you in the morning," Gibbs said, before flipping the phone closed.

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**A/N: Thoughts? I think I did alright with the emotions, but feel free to let me know!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Only in my dreams!  
**

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Ziva finally stopped walking a few miles from Tony's apartment, at a park that she had been to a few times. She knew that she couldn't outrun the truth, but she had needed to keep moving, until her injuries registered again, and she found it difficult to move. Thankfully, there was a bench not far from where she was, and she limped over to it and sat down.

She knew that she shouldn't feel guilty for the deaths of Issa or Shai, or Yani's arrest. They had made their choices, which were rather illogical when you thought about it. After all, they had come to take revenge on three former significant others, all because they had found out that Ziva was still working, just no longer at Mossad. No matter how you spun it, it didn't make sense, though she supposed love never did.

A rustle of leaves behind her caused her to jump up and grab for her knife. She scowled when she saw Malachi standing there, hands in his jacket pockets. "I heard what happened," he said softly.

The fight left her, and she sat back down on the bench, eyes on the empty playground that was a few yards away.

The Mossad Officer sat next to her, stretching his legs out with a sigh. "Do not blame yourself for this, Ziva." His dark eyes sought hers, but she kept her gaze far away. "After I left NCIS yesterday, I looked at Issa's file with Mossad."

"What did you find?" Ziva asked. She tried to distance herself emotionally from the conversation, but she found she couldn't.

"Director David fired him last year for aggressive behavior with other officers. He was sent to the psychiatrist many times. The psychiatrist was concerned that Issa was not entirely sane. She had set up times to meet with him, but he cancelled all of them, and was eventually let go." He shifted, uncomfortable knowing that he was informing the director's daughter that he had broken laws by hacking that file. "My point, Ziva, is that none of this is your fault. Issa was crazy, that's all there is to it. There was nothing you could have done to stop him."

Ziva just nodded and rubbed slightly at her side, wishing that she had brought her pain medication with her when she left the apartment. "I still cannot help but think about what I could have done differently on that op that would have changed what happened."

"The Director was going to send someone with you…"

"I am aware, Malachi," Ziva retorted. "I told him not to. That entire op was my fault, and it came back all these years later to haunt me."

He shook his head. "He was not going to break protocol for you, Ziva. When you told him not to send Issa with you, he was going to send me instead. I convinced him to give you three a chance to prove yourselves."

Ziva slowly turned to look at him. "What?"

He nodded. "You were so young when you were graduated the program, but you grew up with the agency. I knew that you, more than anyone else, wanted to prove your worth to everyone, your father included."

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, turning again to the playground.

"He was happy to accept the resignations of Ruth and Rebekah, hoping that without the daily reminder of that op, you would flourish. And you did, Ziva," Malachi said with feeling. "Even now, with you living and working here, he is proud of you. Instead of letting that op ruin you, you chose to let it strengthen you as you continue working."

"If I let my past rule me, I would never have gotten out of bed on graduation day," she muttered. "You know, you talk about how proud my father is of me, but I didn't see him the entire time I was in Saleem's camp. I did not hear from him until after you left and I sent in my resignation."

Malachi stood. "I am not your father, Ziva, I cannot speak for him. Just know that he is proud of you, especially now." He gave her a small smile before turning and disappearing into the darkness.

She watched him leave, then sighed and turned back around. It seemed as though she spent most of her life living in the past, most especially the past few days, ever since that call to Quantico. Part of that was because she was afraid to forget her roots. She was Israeli, for a little longer anyway. Perhaps it was time to start living in the present, and enjoying what she put into her life, rather than always remembering the guilt from ops that happened years prior.

Standing, she groaned at the pull on the staples in her side as she started walking back to her own apartment. It was several miles to get there, but it would give her time to think.

* * *

For the next two weeks, the team tried to hide their concern for their teammate. She rarely joined in the jokes Tony would play on McGee, she didn't go out for drinks with Abby. In fact, most of the time she merely sat at her desk in a contemplative silence, and would speak in Hebrew when she took personal calls. They let her be, knowing that she would talk to them when she was ready, and not a moment before.

Their patience paid off not long later. It was a Friday and they were getting ready to leave, having closed another case. Ziva dropped her report off on Gibbs' desk and smiled as she grabbed her things.

"You coming out with us, Ziva? Drinks are on Tony tonight," McGee said temptingly.

She smiled at him. "Thank you, McGee, but I have plans tonight."

Tony jumped on that hint. "What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

"I started teaching a self defense class at a synagogue not far from my apartment," she said, shrugging a bit self consciously. "It seemed like the right thing to do."

"Good for you, Ziver," Gibbs said with a ghost of a smile.

She smiled back at him, and hurried to leave, as she was running slightly behind. Tony and McGee watched her leave, glad to see her smiling again. They took Tony's car to a bar, though a different one from where Tony and Ziva had been attacked. He wasn't quite ready to go back there for just a night out.

The bar was relatively quiet for a Friday night, and they shared a couple beers, but they both knew that it wasn't where they wanted to be. "Let's go," Tony said suddenly after a few minutes of silence. He handed the bartender a few bills, and they left. McGee knew exactly where they were going.

Sure enough, they pulled into the synagogue parking lot not long later, and quietly made their way inside. They stopped at the door and grinned as they watched Ziva wrapping up the lesson. There were people of every age there, but they all hung onto her every word, and watched her moves with rapt attention.

Tony was pleased to see her smiles, and that the lines of worry that had been present since their call to Quantico were gone now. She seemed truly happy there, and Tony understood why. She was using her past to help others, and therefore it was no longer haunting her. As he and his partner left before they were discovered, he found that there were still a few things that he could learn from his partner.

Fin

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**A/N: Here we are at the end of this wonderful journey. Thank you to everyone who stuck with me through everything, the wonderful reviews that made my day, and the favorites and followers. You guys rock, and I hope that, if you are wanting more of these guys, you check out my crossover story No Such Thing As Coincidences. Thanks, guys!**


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